Five Times He Said: I Will
by sphinxofthenile
Summary: Crisis Core. "... and when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, never to hope again." Angeal/Genesis


**Disclaimer:**** I don't own these gorgeous guys or the Holy Bible. If I did, that'd be the end of the world for sure.**

**Warning:**** Bunch of religious references. And need I say angst?**

**A/N:**** Don't ask. I'm not even a religious person. I just had to. Words in italics are quotes (sometimes a bit tweaked), mostly from the Song of Songs. Angeal's POV. I'm quite anxious to hear your opinion, so please don't hold back! :)**

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"_Who is this that looketh forth as the morning, fair as the moon, clear as the sun, and terrible as an army with banners?" _

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He stood upon the hill, looking down on the village where humans lived, died, loved and laughed, hated and cried, so much like him and nothing like him at all. Because he was something else, even when he considered himself one of them, when he didn't know, when he still believed.

But those times were over, the wheel of fate has turned and the stars realligned on the dark cape of the heavens, and nothing could ever be the way it used to.

His heart had been scorched by too much pain, his soul had been scarred by too much loss, and now, after everything, here he came, to the cradle of his kind destroyed by the fire raining down from the clear skies. The only reminder of the years upon years he had spent here when he was but a child were the charred remains of the greatest apple tree, a twisted wreck of the venerable and ancient being that used to cover him with clement shadows from the harsh light of the glorious sun. Now the village was gone, burned to dust and carried away by the wind, like it was nothing but a horrible dream to plague crystal minds.

Somehow now it seemed like it had always been summer in Banora, even though somewhere in the back of his troubled mind there were memories of winter days, he couldn't recall them, didn't even want to. He remembered the last summer under the tree instead, and the one he had shared it with.

_Like an apple tree among the trees of the forest, so is my beloved among the young men. In his shade I took great delight and sat down, and his fruit was sweet to my taste._

Even though many of his memories were hazed now, he remembered those first touches so clearly, so awkward, cautious, eager, like gentle rain on the dry plains, like the tender touch of wind on the water surface, sweeter than clear honey on his tongue.

"_Beneath the apple tree I awakened you... and you were like a brother to me who nursed at my mother's breasts. If I found you outdoors, I would kiss you; no one would despise me, either,_" a voice spoke, beautiful like the break of the new day, sweet like the ripe fruits of the richest gardens, it made his heart bleed, this voice like a blade of pride, like a melody of unending sorrow. "I knew you would come, angel."

The black haired man lifted his head and turned to face him, to face the young man who seemed to have surfaced from his very thoughs. The last rays of the sun turned his red leathers into blood, his blue eyes like the clear lakes hidden deep inside the heart of the mountains.

_My beloved is dazzling, outstanding among ten thousand. His mouth is most sweet; yes, he is all beautiful. This is my loved one, and this is my friend. How beautiful you are, my darling, how beautiful you are, you have made my heart beat faster with a single glance of your eyes, you are fair as the moon, clear as the sun, and terrible as an army with banners._

The sight of ashen grey streaks in those silky copper tresses constricted his heart with pain, his eyes filling up with grief as he set them on the fading ivory skin, but those marks still couldn't hide the beauty that he kept treasured in memories locked to his heart by chains like precious gold, like unyielding iron.

_You are altogether beautiful, my darling, and there is no blemish in you._

What made him finally avert his eyes was that he still had to notice some changes, changes other than the slow decay, the bitter curve of milk and honey lips, the malice in eyes mirrored by the sky, things that weren't there when they were still in the Tower that aspired to reach the heavens, or so it seemed back then.

Changes. The turn of the wheel crushed those in the way.

_Who is this that cometh up from the wilderness like pillars of smoke?_

The Red Dragon, the bedazzling Serpent, it was his beloved, but he no longer recognised him in that sour, hateful smile anymore.

"Who are you?" he whispered with a lump in his throat and the redhead laughed, eyes two sapphire suns in the dawn.

"My beautiful angel, have you considered my offer?" he asked, voice of goldfinches, voice of brimstone, and for a moment he wanted to snap at the redhead, because it started with him, with his unquenchable pride, with his thirst for glory.

_For in your arrogance you have said in your heart, I will ascend into heaven, I will exalt my throne above the stars: I will sit also upon the mount of the congregation, in the sides of the north: I will ascend above the heights of the clouds; I will be like the most High._

Then he thought back on the past days, thought about the third of their trinity, the silver haired angel who believed that the changes meant nothing and that the world could go on just as it was, but he didn't believe it, because the moment he sprouted wings the color of the finest alabaster something broke inside, something fell apart into cutting shattered pieces.

Then there was his cherished student who believed that pride was everything because _he_ taught him so, who believed that the wings were a blessing instead of a curse, and told him that angels had only one desire, but that was something that could never be achieved, and therefore the fight for it was pointless. Inside his hollow soul, he had long lost the desire to fight wars that had no meaning.

So what was left? The only way beside death was to fall, and he would've chosen death had he not known that if he fell, he would be caught by the arms that he cherished more than the light of the day, than water in the desert sand.

"My wish for tomorrow shall shatter my soul, for the price of my pride. Flight is no more for my wing has shattered," he murmured into the setting sun, and the angel cast out from the heavens smiled again, sincere and acrid.

"_Arise, my darling, my beautiful one, and come along,_" he said, holding out a perfect blue apple in his red gloved hand, and just after a breath of hesitation, he accepted the gift and the damnation that came with it, because if there was no hope to turn the wheel of fate back, then there was no hope anymore, except in becoming the wheel and being the one who crushes those in the way.

_Now woe to the inhabitants of the earth and of the sea! for the devil is come down to you, having great wrath, because he knows that he has but a short time._


End file.
